


63 cent stick

by aloeverava



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: But when is her not, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gay Lance (Voltron), Implied Relationships, It's kinda short, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith smokes lolol, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Light Angst, M/M, Spoilers, i don't know abt this fic anymore, just read it pls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 01:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17173247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aloeverava/pseuds/aloeverava
Summary: Keith and Lance share a sorta moment at Allura's funeral.(This is me trying to make the most Klance out of what S8 gave us ahahahahahahahahahaha.)("Klance? Never heard of her." - Season 8, probably.)





	63 cent stick

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo... SPOILERS FOR SEASON 8. If your virgin eyes have not seen S8, don't read. :)  
> Also, this was supposed to be the prologue of a crack fic where Keith overtakes the Galra and tries to get Lance to be his queen,,,, but I liked it this way. Enjoy some pining.

Keith hunches over the sink, scrubbing at his tie desperately. It was his father's, one of the only things he had left of him. “Stupid Altean drink,” he mutters. Why did this stuff stain so bad?

After another minute of desperately trying to save the piece of fabric, he slips the loosened tie off of his neck and grabs the suit jacket he'd tossed aside before, slipping out the bathroom.

“Ah, sorry!”

Keith’s face meets a collarbone and similar black blazer, and upon looking up, the first thing he can think is, “Damn it. He's annoyingly taller than me. Still.”

Then he registers Lance's bloodshot eyes and tear-streaked face, and he can't help but pity the boy.

“Lance,” is all Keith can say. His tone would be malicious -- after all, he was the one who had knocked into Keith, spilling his drink all over an outfit that, frankly, could matter very little to him, apart from the tie -- but Keith remembers what day it is and immediately feels bad for even thinking about yelling at Lance right now.

“Sorry about your shirt,” Lance almost whispers, looking at Keith's chest instead of his eyes. Lance's hand rubs the back of his neck, his eyes still downcast. “And the tie,” he adds, seeing the stained fabric in Keith's hand.

“W-What? Oh, no, it's all good, man.”

Then Lance just sort of stands there, and Keith is puzzled as to what's happening.

“Uh… ‘scuse me,”

And then he realizes he's been blocking the way into the bathroom. Flustered, he steps aside and holds the door for Lance. Then, before Keith leaves, he spares his friend one last glance. He really wishes he hadn't.

\---

Quietly, Keith melts back into the crowd of somber, black-clad people and resumes his place nearby the casket and portrait. He gives familiar faces small smiles as they walk past, then notices Lance's parents. They're talking to King Alfor--or rather, his consciousness. A bit morbidly, Keith finds it humorous, yet fitting, how Coran has programmed the hologram of Allura's father to wear black today. Keith also finds it odd that Coran has decided to honor Allura with a traditional American funeral--an open casket one at that--on Altea. Because Lance, he realizes.

Seeing Lance and Allura together had pained Keith, but now that Allura was gone, Keith would give anything in the world to feel the pain he did when he saw the two embrace each other. During Lance and Allura’s short-lived but intimate relationship, Keith was undeniably, incredibly jealous of Allura. He loved her, yes, but not the same way he did Lance. And to even consider a relationship with Lance now that Allura was dead seemed sinful and wrong and not right. And even if Keith didn’t have morals or didn’t mourn one of his closest friends, he strongly doubted Lance reciprocated anything.

“Keith?” Coran’s voice snaps the boy out of his thoughts.

“Sorry, what did you say something, Coran?” Keith asks apologetically, realizing he’d spaced out glaring at the punch bowl.

“Are you alright, Keith?” Coran asks instead. His face is filled with worry, probably seeing how disgruntled Keith looks with his missing tie and stained shirt. His hair also probably looks like a bird’s nest, he thinks to himself.

“Yeah, I’m fine. What was it you were saying?” Keith puts on a happy face, one assuring enough to show that he’s fine, yet sad enough for a funeral. He isn’t supposed to be happy right now.

“I know it’s a bit of short notice, but I’d… I’d like you to say a few words in a bit,” Coran puts a hand on the younger’s shoulder. “For the princess,” he adds a bit unnecessarily, and Keith can see his eyes glisten.

“Of course,” Keith smiles, putting his own hand atop the Altean’s. Coran returns the smile, gratitude in his eyes.

“Thank you, Keith.”

Keith curtly nods, then leaves, making up an excuse about needing to see someone. He needed some air. And probably a cigarette.

\---

Sighing, Keith lights the orange and white stick and brings it to pursed lips. The habit one of the other few things he had left of his father. He stands and watches the sky move as he inhales, closes his eyes as he exhales. His shoulders drooped a little.

What was he supposed to say? That Allura was a dear friend, family, the girl who stole the boy of his dreams? He held no bitterness for the princess, no matter how much his heart wanted to. He could never. He loved her too much. Keith pinches the bridge of his nose, overcome with guilt. Not even thinking about it, he takes another puff of death.

“Four minutes,” A voice beside him rasps. Keith turns. Lance clears his throat, then repeats himself. “Four minutes off your life, all because of a few leaves wrapped into a piece of paper.”

Keith chuckles. “It’s actually six. And I’ve heard that line before.” He walks over to where Lance is leaning against the building because he just feels like it’s what he’s supposed to do. He seats himself on the ground, then pats the area next to him, right under Lance. “Sit.”

Lance obliges, then snatches the cigarette from Keith’s hand and throws it. Hard.

“Hey! That’s my sixty-three cents!”

“You’re polluting Altea’s atmosphere,” Lance says simply, with a bit more menace than Keith expected. The boy with the mullet watches Lance’s unusually blank face, pursing his own lips in concern.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Keith sighs, feigning nonchalance. (He secretly feels bad, apologizing to Allura in his head.) Lance doesn’t seem to be in a talking mood, so Keith doesn’t say anything. The silence between them doesn’t feel awkward or tense, but it isn’t comforting either. It’s just there because they’ve both lost someone they loved and they feel the same grief and there’s nothing to say.

Keith forgets why he came out here in the first place. He forgets his sixty-three cent stick and his eulogy and just sits. With Lance.

**Author's Note:**

> pleasepleaseplease lemme know what ya thought c:


End file.
